Disclaimer: Hetalia: Axis Powers and all related characters and names do not belong to me. I make no profit off of this fanfiction, etc.

This fic was written for Slashy_Lady on LiveJournal. It is part of the USxUK comm's Secret Santa 2009.

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1/24/08

The first rose came a few weeks after New Year's Day. England had been going over his list of New Year's Resolutions in his head (take a vacation, kill the frog, fix that guitar, be nicer to Alfred…) when an obviously confused delivery woman rang his doorbell and handed him a single rose.

He expected it to be a joke from France; after all, it was a rose. But it seemed to pass the inspection of his front door (which had been enchanted to not let anything French pass through) and he assumed it might actually be a meaningful gift.

He decided to keep it; he would probably find out who sent it to him soon enough.

Another rose came the next day. No note, no address, just a rose handed to him by a delivery person. Same as the day before. England added the rose to the vase that the other one was residing in.

A rose came every day after that, always around four in the afternoon. No matter where he was, the rose always made its way to him. Meetings were interrupted, calming walks through the streets were made very un-calming... Eventually it became commonplace for England's boss to make an extra break in whatever they were meeting for, just to avoid the interruption.

--

2/14/08

The first rose with a note came on Valentine's Day. England had been celebrating the same way he had celebrated the date since it became a popular holiday; drinking with whoever decided to come over. That year's visitor was Prussia. Their toasts started off with "To being single!" and eventually morphed into "To not causing that racket next door, WILL YOU RABBITS KINDLY KEEP THE MOANING TO A MINIMUM, damn it your brother is rude..." the more they drank.

The doorbell interrupted the "festivities". Prussia answered and, swaying slightly on his way back to the kitchen, proposed a toast "To whichever idiot is spending good money on flowers for you every day, and may you eventually find out who the fuck it is so the rest of us can get on with our lives and you can get laid."

He tossed the flower across the table. England ignored it, not particularly caring that he was getting a Valentine's Day gift. The note went unopened until the next morning, when he woke up with his head on the table, and saw the rose lying where it had been since the night before. He tore open the card to distract himself from his headache.

I wanted to say Happy Valentine's Day to you, since apparently no one else does.

It was short, but it was distracting enough. England re-read it a couple times, the words not fully registering through the haze of his hangover. "…I need some tea."

--

5/3/08

It's been 100 days since I sent the first rose. This is going to feel a lot longer than I thought. Even though I am a nation, and my life is measured in decades rather than years, a hundred days is still a long time. Maybe it's just because I'm so looking forward to the end of the rose-sending (yes, there's a definite end) that it feels like it's taking forever.

Something exciting needs to happen. Maybe exciting isn't the right word, but, something that doesn't bore me out of my mind. I have significantly less to do than usual. Maybe I should read something. I haven't read for my own enjoyment in a while. I've got some books lying around here somewhere.

England tried to force the smile down. "Has it really been a hundred days?" It had seemed so much shorter than that, to him. Having a daily occurrence to look forward to made time seem to pass by more quickly. "Since you're going to be reading," he spoke quietly, "might I recommend a history book or two?"

5/4/08

Ancient history is fascinating. Did you know that Greece's mom invented democracy?

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8/11/08

Day 200.

I wonder what you're doing with all the roses. Do you throw them away when they turn brown? Do you use them as compost for your garden? Do you do something girly like pressing them, or putting the petals in little fabric bags to use as air fresheners, or weave them into necklaces…? You do embroidery, so I wouldn't be surprised. I probably should've thought about that before. What would I do with 200 roses?

By the way, nice pants at Japan's talent show. I didn't know you played guitar! Or that you could sing so well. I feel inadequate…That's a first.

"Pants… Oh, damn. How drunk was I?" England had meant to whisper the question, but it came out louder than he expected.

Japan overheard him and read the letter over England's shoulder. "…Those pants were interesting, England-san. I didn't know you still had them."

"Please, do me a favor, Japan."

"What favor?"

"Never, ever talk about those pants again."

"Ah… alright."

--

10/19/08

300 roses. This is madness.

I won't be able to send letters for the next few days. I'll be really busy getting ready for the All Nations Meeting on Friday. You probably will, too, so I guess you wouldn't want to be distracted. You're presenting, aren't you? I feel bad for you, I hate presenting.

See you there!

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10/24/08

At the Fall '08 All Nations Meeting, all of the nations that knew England personally took a minute or two to ask him if he figured out who was sending his the roses. Eventually England found out that Prussia had told them all about the one that had come on Valentine's Day, and Sealand had decided to see if more roses were being sent. England told everyone that he had no idea who it was, which was the truth.

When one of the members of security walked in on a discussion on the environment, everyone went silent (which was a great feat in itself, considering the arguing that had been going on just seconds before). All of the attending nations turned towards England as the rose was brought to him. He thanked the guard and, trying to hide his red face, put the rose on top of his briefcase, planning to read the attached letter later.

That plan backfired. America, who was seated next to England as always, saw the card and, in his usual too-loud voice, requested, "Hey, since we're taking a break, read the card out loud!"

England turned to America, intending to call him an idiot as always, but was cut short by sounds of agreement from the other nations. He attempted to stubbornly refuse, but was overruled when China called a vote and nearly every nation said he should read it.

"It will at least bring some excitement to these meetings," France explained.

England gave in and grabbed the rose, ignoring the thorn that dug itself into his thumb. He ripped the tiny envelope open and nearly tore the letter trying to get it out.

"If you're reading this, you're probably reading it out loud to the All Nations Meeting. I know someone will make you read it.

"You should see my calendar. It's a daily calendar, one of those rip-off-the-page-every-day ones, and it has all of the holidays from all over the world for each day. And if there's a holiday for a certain country, it has that country's flag next to it. I always hope that there's a holiday of yours every week, so that I can tell you 'Happy British Holiday!' since I guess not a lot of people say that to you. I feel bad for you every time someone tells me that not a lot of people talk to you outside of meetings anymore. I kind of get it though; you can be a real asshole sometimes.

"Anyways, now I have to embarrass you in front of a couple hundred nations. I think you've already figured out what I'm going to say, since I've been sending you red roses daily for ten months now.

"I'm in love with you."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Italy led the room in a standing ovation. "Ve~, I wish someone would do something romantic like that for me..." Germany choked.

America peeked over his shoulder. "There's a post-script, too." He grinned. "You have igot/i to read that."

"No. No way. Sit down, idiot."

America began to chant loudly. "Read it! Read it! Read it!" he stopped only when the noise level in the room became deafening.

"Fine! Fine. 'P.S. - I meant to say this before, but I forgot to. I'm a guy. And I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't already sure you were gay. Happy UN Day!' Are you all happy now?"

--

12/24/08

Merry Christmas, Arthur! I know it's not until tomorrow, but considering what I've been told about how you spend most gift-giving holidays, you probably won't be in any state to read tomorrow. Or think.

I just realized something. You might already know who I am. That would really not be good. It'd ruin everything. Don't tell me if you know who I am. I'll keep writing as if you don't.

I wish you'd send me a Christmas card every once in a while. Not that you send them to anyone else, but still…

You should see my Christmas tree. It's HUGE.

The next morning, over two hundred nations, micro-nations, outlying territories, and religious cities acting as independent states all received one more Christmas card than they had the year before.